


Our Future is Now

by swanhooked



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 10:18:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5963692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swanhooked/pseuds/swanhooked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>CS drabbles set in the future. Ratings will vary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Pirate in You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set vague post-5b; Killian teaches Emma some swordfighting. FLUFF.

Henry let out a curse as his sword was thrown to the side, falling with another loud clatter onto the deck. His head fell back in frustration, a quirk that reminded Killian so much of his Swan, it made him smile. 

“Hey, language,” shouted a warning voice up above them. Killian looked up and to his left in delighted surprise as he saw Emma standing at the edge of dock, a take-out bag from Granny’s in her hand. 

He picked up the fallen sword, catching it swiftly with his hook, before turning back to Henry. He ruffled Henry’s hair with his hand, earning a joking swat from the boy. “S’alright, lad. You’re improving admirably. Now, take this,” he held out the swinging sword on his hook for him to take. “And bring it back up to the helm and let’s have some lunch.” 

After a quick “aye, aye,” Henry jogged up the steps to the wheel and Killian tried to hide his smile as in his peripherals he saw the boy practicing his form, slicing the air a couple times. He returned his sword to its home on his hip before turning his attention back to Emma.

“You better not be teaching him swear words,” admonished Emma, though her tone held little annoyance. 

“Ah, I assure you I’m not worse than you are, darling,” he teased back, eyebrow raised. He quickly sauntered up the few steps to the edge to meet her just in time to catch her eye-roll. The sun illuminated the jade in her eyes and the freckles on her cheeks. Those cheeks, when lifted in her purest smile, made his knees weak and his heart light. They were his only anchor to the ground sometimes. 

“Permission to come aboard, or are you just gonna stare at me?” Her voice brought him out of his reverie, his lips curving into a smile as his hooked arm bent behind his back and he lifted his hand, palm up for her to hold. 

He bowed to kiss her hand when it touched his. “Always, m’lady,” he whispered, squeezing her hand gently when he stood. The smile she graced him with sent a jolt to his chest because, though her cheeks still pinked, she freely allowed him to give her the attention she’d always deserved and every day he thanked whatever Gods lived above them that he was the one to do so. 

He led her down the steps to the table and chairs she magically brought up from below deck. Henry ran over and grabbed the bag of her hand. “Finally, I’m  _starving.”_

They both chuckled at the very teenage boy, who seemed to have an endless stomach these days. 

Days like today were his favorite, just their small immediate family enjoying each other’s company on the Jolly. Henry may not call him dad, but Killian called him son, and the unspoken bond of protection was always there. In addition to Emma, gaining a son was something he couldn’t have ever prepared for; it was when he most felt like the man Emma told him everyday that he was. 

As they ate their grilled cheese and milkshakes, Henry told his mother of his progress with a sword, as well as new sailing techniques he’d been shown that day. Emma listened intently, love in her eyes for her growing son–which changed to bewilderment when he practically attacked her unfinished plate when he was done with his. 

“You’re not running my son ragged, are you?” Emma chuckled as Henry shoved yet more fries into his mouth. 

“Swordsmanship is a thrilling skill, love. All that adrenaline pumping through a growing young lad…well, this is what you get.” He broke out into a laugh when Henry glanced back at them, his cheeks full like a chipmunk’s, as if he just tuned into their conversation. 

“You know, Mom, I could probably beat you now,” Henry said confidently after he’d swallowed. 

“Is that so,” Emma smiled. She paused, then looked at Killian beside her, a sudden spark in her eye. “What do you say, Captain…Want to teach me a few things?”

Excitedly standing up from the table, he grinned at her before leaning down, one arm on the table, the other on her chair, trapping her inbetween. “Let’s see just how much pirate is in you, Swan.” His eyebrows rose as his head tilted at his challenge. He surprised her with a chaste kiss to her smirking lips before jogging up to the helm.

After retrieving his cutlass and the one Henry had stashed, he came back down to find the table no longer in the middle of the ship. His gaze drifted to Emma and he would lying if he said his steps didn’t falter a fraction when he noticed her now-bare shoulders, her jacket flung over a barrel.

“What’s the matter, Captain?” Emma leered as she confidently raised a boot on the step in front of her and brought a hand to her hip, her hair now thrown up into a ponytail.

He chuckled lightly as he stepped on the hatch in the center of the ship, stopping a few feet from her. “Oh, Swan, you wound me. Even a woman as beautiful as you shall not lessen my skill.” He twisted the cutlass in his hand swiftly so he could hand her the hilt “And I have no intention of letting you win this time.” His thoughts traced back to their first sword fight, to a moment when his body lay over hers just enough to spark the electricity that hummed between them.

“This time?” He saw her eyes bug as the memory hit her. Her eyes remained stern, but he saw her body lean back slightly in doubt. “You did  _not_  let me win.”

His only response was to unsheathe his sword from his hip, the satisfying sound echoing in the wind, and pointing it toward his partner in silent challenge. “Prove i _t_ ,” his voice putting emphasis on the t. 

His sword lifted up as she made the first move, sending a clang in the air as steel hit steel. He quickly recovered by jumping down to the deck and swinging the blade back under, allowing her the confidence to stop it. He knew she had the natural skill in her, if only due to her strong survival instincts–which is what precisely made her a pirate in his eyes. It was how she learned best, he knew, so he kept his play at a mild level, carefully watching and waiting for her to be ready for more.

Her feet moved gracefully as she moved forward. When she managed to catch his cutlass with hers, she slid it down to the hilt. With it came her body as she leaned above him from her place on the hatch, her exuberant smile sending jolts to his already racing heart. His back almost completely arched, he grinned as he used his hook to give him the leverage to push her back. She rocked back on her feet and ran up the stairs to her left the led to the helm. 

Never was he more in love with her, he thought, than when her playful side came out–the side only he seemed to have the pleasure of seeing. His lips curved in a helpless smile as he dramatically sidestepped over to the other side instead of following her. She was angelic in her movements as she walked backwards, keeping her eyes on his as they moved. She passed the wheel and suddenly they were face to face. His foot stopped on a step above the other on the stairs and he realized then how much he loved the control she exhibited when she stood above him, but unlike the moment before, their swords hung forgotten by their side as their heads moved closer to each other, eyes flickering between gazes, lips, and flushed cheeks. 

He was lost in the wetness of her lips, his throat tightening when her tongue brushed over them in anticipation. His eyes closed, bracing for home when he felt a sharp prick against his chest. 

He had no need to look down at the cutlass being pointed at his sternum, at her trick. He simply stared at her, tilting his head as he pushed the tip away with his hook. 

“You dare trick a Captain on his own ship, Swan? Using yourself as a ploy.” He clicked his tongue in pseudo disappointment. “Bad form, very bad form.”

She  _giggled_. Outright giggled, the minx. 

She backed up a foot, bringing the sword back up between them. “Stop going easy on me, then,” she dared.

He jogged up the last step so that he was equal with her. Not giving her a moment to prepare, he swung his weapon out, clanging it with hers. He stopped her advance from the side. Knowing his ship gave him the advantage of moving backwards with ease as she chased him back down to the deck, his feet unfaltering down the steps. Their blades clashed and swiped at each other as their bodies turned and danced. He watched with pride as her feet moved more elegantly across the wood, noticing the technique she was already learning, the same with her maneuvering of the cutlass. 

Their movements became less serious as the light competition became pure fun and laughter bubbled out of both of them. The sun was quickly setting against the ship, casting them in golden shadows. With one last flourish of his arm, their weapons connected above them. They watched each other until she stepped forward, sliding her blade down his until she reached the middle and with a quick twist his cutlass went flying to the side and landed with a definitive clatter. 

“Ha, ha!” Emma cheered. Her heels bounced slightly before she collected herself and raised her sword back up, pointing the tip at the level of his chin. His palm and hook rose on either side of his head in surrender. His tongue swiped the side of his mouth as he grinned.

“I win,” she sung, smiling in triumph.

Locking his gaze with hers, he pushed the sword slowly up with his index finger until it stood straight in her hand, closing the distance between them as he did so. He took the hilt out of her grasp and tossed the thing to the side before grabbing her hips and pulling her against his chest, crashing his lips to hers. His hand moved to the back of her neck to dip her slightly while his hook caught the small of her back. He chuckled at the moan she let escape, relishing his ability to wipe the smug grin off her face only to weaken her in seconds. 

Killian smiled when her lips continued to chase his as he pulled back. “On the contrary, love,” he spoke softly. He cupped her cheek in his palm, his thumb wiping the slight gleam of sweat off her skin. He looked at his Swan and once again wondered how the blazes he’d gotten so lucky. “It is I, who has won.” 

She huffed, rolling her eyes. “You’re such a sap.”

“Mmmm, but you love me.” 

“I do,” she whispered, tiptoeing up to kiss him again. 

(“You guys are disgusting.”)

 


	2. Now You Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short (future-ish) ficlet; post-underworld + captain charming feels galore

“Are you okay, Killian?” asked David, who had just reentered the room without Killian noticing.

He lifted his head from atop of Emma’s, quickly trying–futilely–to hide the fresh wetness on his cheeks from the Prince’s gaze. They sat on the couch by the window of the loft, her tucked into his side with her head in the crook of his neck and her legs on his lap. 

They had returned from the ghastly realm known as the Underworld, its reputation proving to be just as much of a Hell as they claimed, just a few hours earlier, but to Killian it felt like minutes–like he could be pulled back at any second. The only thing keeping him anchored was the single heartbeat that now echoed in two different chests.

He moved his hand to rest on Emma’s arm as he answered. “Is it like this with you and your wife?” he asked him.

Clearly allowing his avoidance of the question, David let out a small smile before he spoke. “Feeling what she feels? According to Regina, the experience can vary between people, but for me and Snow, yes. We have a subtle knowing of what the other feels, some moments more intense than others. I assume you’re feeling it now?”

Killian nodded silently. All the commotion of returning to Storybrooke had pulled his attention elsewhere; Mary Margaret had suggested they return to the loft for a relaxed celebration. Regina and Robin had opted out, wanting, he was sure, to bring Roland and the baby home and spend time with just each other. 

The unspoken question of whether or not him and Emma would spend the night in the house that now held a mix of emotions for the both of them had remained just that. Killian thought he’d seen relief pass through Emma’s eyes when her mother had suggested the idea, making him wonder if they had hit a setback.

Now that calmness could be allowed to settle in, he found the more he focused on Emma, the tighter his chest felt and the harder the new heart in his chest beat. It was becoming hard to distinguish between her emotions and his own. “I don’t…It’s…” 

“Overwhelming?” David supplied, chuckling, which Killian returned softly. 

“Quite,” he answered. His fingers played with the curly ends of Emma’s hair as a beat of silence passed. “There was a moment, when you went to check on Snow and Neal just now, just as she was falling asleep that I felt this wave of…well, I don’t quite know, but it was…” He trailed off, feeling the answer come to him. Contentment. Peace. Love. He cleared his throat. “Everything,” he softly finished, the word escaping in a gasped sigh. “It was everything I’ve always felt when I’m with her and I almost couldn’t breathe.”

When he looked back at the Prince he was surprised to see, not only a smile, but also a glistening in his eyes. Killian rolled his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that, mate.”

The Prince’s smile widened. Killian didn’t know when the two of them had reached this point of honesty–and closeness if he allowed himself to think it–between them, but he was grateful to have someone there right in that moment. Perhaps after everything they had all just experienced, ease in speaking freely of matters of the heart had resulted. 

“It just makes me so happy that…” David paused, bringing a hand to slide against the scruff of his cheek before he continued. “…to see how much she’s indeed opened her heart.”

Both men’s eyes laid on Emma. Killian watched the breath leave her slightly parted lips as her chest slowly rose and fell as she slept. He knew this was the most she had slept since she was…well, since she had let herself be consumed by darkness. He held her tighter.

“I don’t even know how to begin to thank you and the others for…”

David cut him off. “There will be no thanking on your part. You’re a part of this family, Killian, and that’s all there is to be said.”

All Killian could do was nod, the lump in his throat too large to remove. He didn’t have to, as David spoke again. 

“I feel it is I that should thank you, actually,” he said, leaning back in his chair. His gaze fell to his clasped hands, fingers rubbing against each other. “And perhaps apologize for pre-judging you and your intentions with her.” 

Killian shook his head, avoiding David’s gaze. “You had every reason to.”

David’s head cocked to the side. “Perhaps, but I’m sorry I saw you only as the pirate you once were. You’re clearly much more.” 

David’s words hung in the air and felt as though they had hit him right in the chest. He hadn’t been aware of wanting Emma’s father’s approval until that very moment. Finally, he felt he could answer, though the words felt weak in comparison to what he felt. “I appreciate that, Dave,” he said, locking his gaze with David’s, before returning back to Emma. “She’s the reason, though.”

He thought back to perhaps the most pivotal moment of his life, the moment when Emma told him he could be a part of something if he so chose. From then on he knew he’d do whatever it took to win her heart.

“You’re also the reason for her. She’s a different woman than the one we initially met. That’s what I want to thank you for.”

His lips parted as he looked at David. Him, normally so eloquent and charming with words found himself at an utter lack of them tonight. So many emotions ran through him and overwhelmed his senses to the point he felt the burn behind his eyelids and tightness in his throat once again. He looked back down at Emma but found she was still sleeping peacefully, blissfully unaware of the current conversation.

“You’re good for each other,” David told him after a few minutes of silence had passed. “Anyway,” he said as he stood up, groaning just a bit, reminding Killian how exhausted him and the others had to be. “You should get some rest, Killian. She’s not going anywhere.”

He smiled into Emma’s hair. “No, I imagine not.” 

“And, hey, now you know,” David said casually.

“Know what?”

“That she’d go to the end of the world for you, too.” 

Unable to hide his smile, Killian closed his eyes as he rested his head atop of his Swan’s once again. David had already turned around to return to his wife and son, but Killian found he would not have minded if the Prince had seen the tear that broke loose and slid down his cheek.


	3. Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by this photo posted by Jmo: instagram.com/p/BCoCz79oFfF/

“Smile, love,” he sung as soon as he had his finger on the right button of his talking phone. 

Glancing in his direction, her face changed to one of surprise when the flash went off. “Killian,” she complained, her eyes falling back down to Charles, who seemed unfazed by the flash, content on sucking down his milk. Her voice turned baby-like when she said, “We weren’t ready.” 

“Nonsense, you look beautiful,” he told her sincerely, taking the seat next to her at the table. “As well, I’ve finally grasped the mechanics of this electronic and I plan on using it to document my beautiful wife and son whenever I’ve the chance.” He slid a finger into the tiny palm of his son, smiling when he immediately grasped it. 

“You’re such a cheeseball,” she teased. 

“I really need to learn what that term means,” he mumbled to himself, making Emma laugh. 

“Where’s Leia?” she asked as she tilted the last remains of the bottle for the baby to finish before setting it down on the table. “Reach into the bag and grab the cloth, will you?”

“She,” he paused, moving the tablecloth to find the diaper bag underneath as he answered. “is trying to win the affections of young Roland over there on the dance floor.”

“Uh oh, looks like daddy’s becoming protective.” He could hear the teasing smirk on her face. 

He handed her the burping cloth with a chastising look. “That has been the case since the day she was born, love,” he said, watching his little girl twirl with grace as she danced around now 11-year old Roland.

“Relax, Killian, she’s five,” Emma said as she moved the baby to her right shoulder to be burped. “Just wait until the teenage years begin.” 

He visibly shuddered. Letting his young lass out into the world to the affections of, well anyone, but namely men, had his jaw tightening immediately. “Let’s deal with that when it comes,” he sighed. 

Emma leaned over to whisper, “she’s a strong lass,” in his ear, her imitation of his voice making him chuckle. Charles let out a great belch right then, fully breaking the tension that had arisen in him. 

He had not anticipated how much worry came with having children of his own, not until he experienced it firsthand. There simply wasn’t a moment where he didn’t think about keeping his children safe, Emma safe. It was Storybrooke after all.

He wouldn’t trade it for anything. 

Charles was now quickly fading in Emma’s arms, his eyes closing as a yawn escaped. He reached out to take him from her to allow her to clean up and put away the bottle.

He gazed down at his son, a flicker of green peaking through before his eyes fell to slumber. He felt his lips twitch up as he rocked the tiny lad, soaking in his third, but no less equally important, precious gift. Charles had taken Emma’s emerald eyes and his dark hair while his daughter had his ocean-blue ones and Emma’s golden curls. His heart skipped whenever he thought about his life and the very future him and Emma were able to finally have.

When everything was zipped back up in the diaper bag at her feet, she slid closer in her chair to lean her chin on his shoulder, her eyes glancing from the baby to Leia, who was running over to where the newlyweds, Robin and Regina, sat enjoying a moment together. Her golden waves bounced in time with her steps, her lavender dress swaying in an image of pure joy. 

“We make beautiful babies,” Emma murmured into his ear, pride and love exuding from her voice. 

“That we do, love. That we do.” He pressed his lips to her cheek, letting them linger as he closed his eyes. “I love you,” he whispered, the words just for her. 

“I love you, too.”


	4. A Quiet Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in the verse as Smile but still a separate drabble; Killian comes home for the day. Song inspiration: Beautiful to Me - Olly Murs

If you were to ask Killian Jones what he loved most about Emma Swan, he would tell you such a question did not have an answer. Emma Swan couldn’t be described in casual vocabulary, let alone a few sentences. 

However, Killian did love certain moments more than others. 

Their quiet moments were as frequent as ever, they were each happy to report. The occasional villain would announce its presence in their home of Storybrooke but something about defeating the God of the Underworld put all others into perspective. They would fight as they always did--together, returning to their respective homes and the arms of those they loved at the end of the day.

This was Killian’s favorite moment of all. 

Tonight was no different than any other; he shut the door of Dave’s truck, throwing him a wave before sliding the latch on the gate up and approaching the house. Sometimes he snuck a glance at the mailbox that bore _Jones_  in his own script (per Emma’s request) on the side as it never failed to send a flutter to his chest. 

His heart thrummed with the anticipation he always felt when returning home, the excitement of seeing his wife after being apart for any amount of time, he felt, would never cease--nor did he ever want it to. 

He quickly mounted the steps to the porch, knowing the door would be unlocked for him. But just as he was reaching for the knob, he stopped, his eyebrows raising when he heard music coming from inside the house, the upbeat melody telling him it was of the popular genre--one of Emma’s secret favorites. 

He opened the door to laughter, a high-pitched giggle that never failed to send a burst of emotion to his aged heart that was followed by a tad deeper laugh that was no less sweet and laced with strength; one that he would recognize anywhere in the world. 

He couldn’t stop the grin that lit up his face at the sight of his Swan dancing with 3-year-old Leia in the living room to his right. She bent to grasp the little girl’s hand and twirled her as she playfully belted out the lyrics of the song. Not wanting to be seen just yet, he closed the door and shrugged off his jacket as quietly as he could. 

Very rarely did Emma reveal such a side to herself, but hints had begun to shine through more and more after they had Leia. Emma smiled more, laughed bigger, cried nearly at everything--and he loved her all the more for it. Because he felt it too. 

Watching Emma be a mother to his child--well, there was nothing that compared to that.

Emma, clad in her favorite sweats and one of his T-shirts she’d stolen, picked up Leia and slung her over her hip. Her voice--the voice of an angel he’d say, no matter how many time she rolled her eyes at him--grew softer with the song dipped. She swung Leia lightly in her arms as she sang, “My love don't ever change the way you are. You light the sky just like a star. I don't care what you see, you're beautiful to me.” A couple moments later, the music faded as the song ended. 

“You both are.” Only when Leia screamed happily in Emma’s arms did he realize he said the words out loud. 

“Papa!” Leia called as she squirmed out of Emma’s arms. Emma quickly let her down, her smile brightening when she locked eyes with him.

He smiled widely as he bent down on his knees and opened his arms to catch his littlest love, her golden waves identical to her mother’s bouncing lightly as she toddled over.

He wrapped his arms around her and pressed kisses all over her face, making her giggle. “Hello, my darling.” He picked her up, glancing at Emma who was now standing next to them. “Are you having fun with mummy?” Leia nodded enthusiastically. He chuckled lightly before turning his attention to Emma, who still had an adorable blush on her cheeks. He was looking into her eyes as he said, “She has a lovely voice, doesn’t she, Cygnet?” 

Emma took her cue to roll her eyes just as Leia agreed--before quickly latching onto something else that grabbed her attention. He set her down and watched her run off to the pile of toys thrown about in the living room. 

Both he and Emma waited until she was settled with one of her favorite dolls before Killian took Emma’s hand and pulled her against his chest. She looked up at him with her chin resting against his chest and the look in her eyes wiped the words he had on his tongue. He kissed her softly instead, and it was a different kind of home, one that his heart shared with his body and he sighed into it. It wiped even the smallest of stress from the day and reminded him how lucky he was to come home to such beauty. 

“I missed you,” he whispered when they pulled back, stroking her cheek affectionately. 

“You were just at the docks with David for the day,” she replied, her tone lightly teasing. 

“I always miss you,” he shrugged. Her eyes softened at that and he knew after everything they’d been through, there wouldn’t be a separation where they didn’t feel the others’ absence. 

She leaned up on her tip-toes for another chaste kiss. “I need to get dinner started. Get her washed up?” She nodded towards Leia. 

He nodded happily with his assent, not missing his chance to slide his fingers over Emma’s newly budding stomach. 

He thought about how their moments would soon become less quiet; more hectic and more taxing, but more full of love than they both knew what to do with and how he would never wish it to be anything else.


	5. Easter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by this photo from Jmo: instagram.com/p/BDeJkwOIFdb/   
> Same verse as Smile and A Quiet Moment bc I’m obsessed with Leia and Charles

“I think you chose well, Grandma,” Emma chuckled, smiling as she watched Leia’s tiny plump lips twitch upwards in a smile. Her little fingers clutched the plush bunny tight and Emma had a feeling she had a new favorite toy.

Mary Margaret sighed happily beside her on the couch. “I can’t believe I’m a grandmother of two now.” The joyful glint of her tone told Emma she was enjoying every second of it. 

Emma couldn’t help but laugh. There were some moments that nearly blew her over, making her wonder how she’d come to achieve such happiness in her life. “Neither can I,” she told her mother. She rubbed the pads of her fingers across the baby’s back, relishing the feel of her against her chest.

Mary Margaret shifted to grab one of the small chocolate bunnies from the bowl on the coffee table in front of them. Sitting back into the cushions, she popped it into her mouth. “How’s Killian handling it?”

They’d all gathered for Easter Sunday, though Emma knew her parents used every excuse to come see the new addition to the Jones family. Emma glanced up at the mention of her husband and grinned when she saw him talking amicably to David and Robin in the kitchen, his arms gesticulating adorably as he told whatever tale it was. She watched him for a few seconds before turning back to her mom. 

“He’s amazing with her,” she sighed, smiling to herself. Despite his (natural) nervousness when she’d told him she was pregnant and his outright petrified face when Emma had gone into labor, he had already proved to be the wonderful father Emma knew he’d be. “He was always good with Henry, but…I don’t know, it’s…” 

“Different when it’s your own,” her mother finished with a knowing smile. 

“Yeah,” Emma agreed. She looked down at their little miracle, her eyes nearly tearing up when she thought about her life; a husband, a baby girl, a house they finally felt reflected _them_ , instead of the challenges they’d had to get there. “He looks at her like she’s the entire world in his hands,” she says softly, almost to herself.

“The same way he looks at you,” her mother adds candidly, earning a shy smile from Emma. 

“The way who looks at her, milady?” an accented voice interrupted as he sauntered into the living room. His eyebrow quirked, telling them he very well knew the answer to his own question.

“Just you, Captain,” Mary Margaret chuckled, standing up to allow Killian to take her spot. When they crossed paths she stopped to cup his cheek gently. “And I told you to call me mom from now on.” 

Emma was bouncing little Leia on her lap when she caught what her mother had said. Her heart warmed at her mother’s gesture, smiling when she saw the pink coloring his ears. Killian smiled softly at Mary Margaret, his eyes still shy at the prospect.  

“I’m going to help Regina with dinner. See you guys later,” she said over her shoulder as she walked towards the kitchen. They both chuckled when they heard her shooing the men out of room when she got there.

“How are my girls doing?” Killian asked sweetly as he sat down. He pressed a quick kiss to her cheek before resting his arm on the back of the couch behind her and gazing down at Leia, who was quickly fading in her arms now.

“Sleepy, it appears,” Emma whispered.

“Nap time, then, little one.” He reached out for his daughter to take her upstairs but was startled when she started crying the second she left Emma’s arms, her little hand reaching back to her. 

Emma let out a light laugh. “I think you’ve been replaced, daddy,” she said as she shook the bunny at him before letting Leia grab it, which immediately ceased her cries. 

“Nonsense, Swan,” he quipped. Now content, Leia lay her head on his chest and he hugged both her and the bunny closer to his body. “I’m far more handsome than that bunny, she just doesn’t know it yet.” Not waiting for an argument, he winked and headed towards the stairs.

Emma rolled her eyes at her husband, unable to wish for anyone different. 


	6. Capital T, Capital L

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Underworld/future drabble. Sidenote: Grace is not Zelena’s baby. My brain wouldn’t let me write anything but Pistachio so she is conveniently left out of this.

Henry was not a stranger to love. In fact, one could argue he knew everything about it, including the fact that there was such a thing as True Love, capital T, capital L. True Love, in all its forms, was the most powerful magic in all the realms--and he had been to many and experienced it firsthand.

It began with his grandparents, of course. The story of Snow White and Prince Charming instilled the hearts of many with their love and constant faith in each other. Their promise to always find each other still held strong to this day, proving that nothing was impossible so long as one held onto hope. 

He had seen it with Regina and her now husband, Robin, extending to his other siblings, Roland, and their newest daughter, Grace. Every day giving Regina confirmation of her heroism and her belief in herself, doing far more than any curse was able to do. 

He had also seen True Love be tested to its farthest reach with his other grandfather and Belle. As much as fate had the power to tether two souls, it also had to bend to free will. Though even in such severance, the love for their child brought them together when it mattered.

And finally, if there was one couple that transcended all (though Henry may be a bit biased), that out-wrote even the iconic tale of Snow White and Prince Charming--it was that of their daughter, Emma Swan, and Killian Jones.

Henry, now twenty-three, had agreed to watch his siblings that night while Emma and Killian went out on their date. It didn’t take long for the sun to set and the smallest ones to ask The Author himself to read their favorite story.

Tonight’s story branched further, and as he looked at the faces of his family, he told them, “Not everyone gets the chance to watch their parents fall in love, but we’re quite lucky; we get to see it every single day.” 

As much as their story was filled to the brim of adventure, of monsters and villains and the team they became defeating such demons, it was only at the point of  _After_  that Henry saw what True Love really meant, what it could do, and what it could be. His step-father told him long ago, just as he did his wife, that life was made of moments. “Not always quiet ones,” Killian had amended with a chuckle years later after they had their first child. “But moments nonetheless that remind you why you are here.” 

It was not hard to see how much his parents loved each other, but Henry found love could be displayed in many different ways other than in the gaze of the eye or the touch of a hand. It was in the kiss each morning as they separated at the sidewalk, Killian walking the kids to school while Emma left for her duties as Sheriff. It was Killian having a second mug of coffee waiting for Emma as she slowly retreated from bed.

It was the loud, chaotic moments that revealed the most, though. They had been to Hell and back--literally--and it had not taken long for those wounds to open. Both had grown accustomed to when to push and when to not, but them being the most headstrong pair he’d ever encountered, sometimes patience ran thin, fears that were very much still part of them resurfacing. 

But even on the darkest nights, one would always find the other and take their hand before morning rose. They didn’t argue much, but when they did, Henry reminded his wide-eyed brothers and sisters that they would never stay angry at each other, not when they had such beautiful reasons not to.

***

He looked down to the newest chapter in the story of  _Once Upon A Time_ , the book representing magic itself in the purest of forms.

The book that changed Henry’s life, and in turn, everyone else’s.

"Aren’t you guys sick of hearing that story?” 

Henry looked up to find Emma entering the living room where her children were gathered around him. His younger siblings lay spread out in various spots. Leia, who was just shy of eight, sat with her four-year-old sister, Hope, on top of the mountain of pillows they’d collectively dragged from every bedroom of the house to lay on the floor. Charles, six, sat on the couch while their adoptive brother, William, the eldest of them at 12 years, occupied the other armchair just beside Henry. 

“Hey guys, I didn’t hear you come in,” Henry said. 

A deeper voice entered the room then. “We assumed the little ones would be in bed,” Killian chided lightly, giving Henry a teasing look as he trailed behind Emma. Each took their spots on the couch, Killian sitting beside Charlie, ruffling his dark hair as he did so, and Emma snuggling close to his side. 

“He just got to the best part, papa!” exclaimed Hope, who jumped up and toddled over to in front of Killian’s legs.

“Did he now?” Killian replied, grinning widely at his youngest daughter--who had Killian wrapped around her little finger, if you were to ask Henry--as he scooped her up in his arms and into his lap, earning a loud giggle from her. 

“And what part would that be, my darling?” Killian asked her, holding her by her tiny hips in front of his chest. 

“We don’t know, that’s what makes it the best!” shouted Hope, making Emma and Killian laugh. 

“It’s new,” added Leia, her feet crossed in the air from her laid-out position on the floor. 

“New?” Emma questioned, looking at Henry. 

Henry felt his cheeks pink as the attention returned to him. He flipped back to where the new addition began. He reverently stroked the fresh ink, smiling at the illustration on the right side of the page. 

“Yeah, um, I thought the book could use a few more chapters.” He stood up and walked over to Emma and Killian, presenting the book, open-faced on his palms. 

Each of the kids ran over and huddled over their parents’ shoulder, Leia sliding in beside Emma and Charles snuggling under his father’s arm while Will hovered over the top of the couch. Hope settled between the two as the book was handed over. Killian caught Emma’s glance before they each grabbed a side of the book.

Henry smiled when he heard his mother’s small gasp. They each gazed at the first illustration: Two figures stood side by side, gazing far out into the distance where a beanstalk shot up and disappeared into the clouds above. The first of many an adventure for the Savior and Captain Hook. 

Emma flipped to the next page which had an illustration of their kiss in Neverland, earning a smirk from both Henry and Killian, a blush from Emma, and a resounding “EWWW” from the rest of the kids. As Emma quickly flipped through, her eyes beginning to glisten, Henry caught glimpses of his work; their first date, when Killian declared her his happy ending, followed by when Emma told Killian she loved him, and finally, to the Underworld, where they proved their love to be the truest of them all, granting Killian his return to Storybrooke and the start of their future.

“You wrote our story,” Emma breathed, her words not a question, but a statement.

Henry smiled at his parents, his heart full of pride and admiration for both of them. He hoped this gift would tell them everything he had ever wanted to say, as words on paper so often did. “Happy anniversary, Mom and Dad.” 

Killian’s eyes softened as they always did when Henry referred to him as such. He had earned the title of father in ways Henry could not begin to express to the man sitting in front of him. Killian left the book fall to his lap to grasp Henry’s hand, squeezing it lightly. “Thank you, lad,” he grinned, telling Henry he very well knew.

His mom wiped the tears from her cheeks, closing the book and setting it on the other side of Leia before pulling Henry in for a hug. When she pulled back, there were fresh tears in her eyes as she looked over to Killian, who moved his hook across Hope to slide it into Emma’s palm, his own eyes beginning to shine.

They looked around them at the faces full of belief, hope and love, each pair of eyes representing the reward for the battles they had fought, the sacrifices they had made, and in that moment, Henry found that the two people who had longed for love the most had the most to give.


	7. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Inspired by this art: waiting-for-autumn.tumblr.com/post/143694008513 ] Killian and his daughter surprise Emma on Mother's day

The life of a Captain still ingrained in him, Killian often woke just before dawn, sometimes watching Emma’s slow breaths as she slept, sometimes leaving to busy himself on his ship. Some mornings, his Swan would wake enough to pull him back into her arms for another hour--something he did not mind in the slightest and was yet another moment he never took for granted.

This pattern had not changed much. Killian still rose early, never leaving before placing a kiss on Emma’s sleeping form, but the difference--and what a difference it was--was his personal sun who slept in the next room, shining more light on his life than he ever thought possible.

She had his eyes, a deeper shade of blue reminiscent of the open waves that calmed him with every gaze. She had Emma’s round, apple cheeks that lifted every time she smiled--a sight that stopped the beats of his aged heart nearly every time. Her small, heart-shaped face was framed by her rapidly growing curls, the color of the purest aurous that would fill even King Midas with jealousy.

He glanced at his daughter, Hope, beside him on the counter, her legs swinging every so often in silent joy as her feet kicked the cabinet below. She leaned towards the plate of waffles in front of him with wondrous eyes. He smiled as she sniffed the steam wafting off them. When she reached a finger toward one, he slid the plate to the opposite side.

“No, no darling. Those are hot, and also not for you,” he tapped his index finger against her nose, erasing the pout on her lips as she giggled. “They are for your mum.”

“But mummy is sleeping,” stated Hope. 

He chuckled at her serious tone, as they both knew Emma’s need for sleep on her days off--and the grumpiness that ensued if she didn’t get it. “Right you are, my cygnet, but today is a special day.”

“Why?” his daughter asked in her five-year-old, everything-needed-an-answer-voice.

“Today is Mother’s day, which means we get to show her how much we love her by doing nice things for her today.” 

“Ohhh!” exclaimed his little girl, her excitement lifting his lips in a smile as her eyes bugged. “I’m gonna give her a hug.” 

“I think she would love that,” he praised, kissing her forehead before placing the final strawberry on top of the generous heaping of whipped cream that covered the waffle stack. After pulling the portable tray from the cabinet and placing the plate, along with the mug of cocoa, on top, he stepped to the side to wash his hand, then lifted Hope to place her on the floor. 

“I’m going to give you a very important job, darling. You think you can handle it?”

“I can do anything,” she replied brightly, her chin tilting upwards in confidence.

“That’s my brave lass,” he grinned. Now--” He reached behind him for the vase on the counter that bathed a single rose. He bent down on his knee, pretending the plastic in his hands was the most valuable treasure to hand over. “Hold this with both hands...” He guided one of her hands to the base, the other to the neck. “...and don’t let it drop, okay?”

Her brow furrowed in concentration as she wrapped her tiny fingers around the vase. 

He nodded his approval before gripping the tray in his hand and guiding her to follow him to the stairs. He stopped on the second step when he felt pressure on his left arm. His breath hitched when he gazed down and found a small hand grasping the curve of his hook. It was not the first time she had done so, but it was a first to have done it on her own. His heart swelled with emotion, pride mixing with love and disbelief that such an angel was not only his but that she accepted him just the way he was. He shook his head minutely at the silly worry that such would not be the case. Emma had assured him many times any child of theirs would love him for the pirate that he was, just as she had, but moments such as these still blew him away in awe.

They slowly took the steps, Hope still not having the greatest balance, especially with something in her hands, but she pushed forth, gripping him tightly, and Killian already saw the beginnings of perseverance bestowed upon her by her mother. His grin widened at the sight. 

“Okay, love, you go in first,” he whispered down to her just outside their bedroom door. Hope let go of his hook and pushed open the door, toddling over to Emma’s side of the bed. Killian followed a few steps behind, placing the tray on the bedside table, before taking the rose from Hope and lifting her with his left arm onto the bed beside Emma’s still sleeping form. He sat back near Emma’s legs and watched Hope crawl up to her mother and kiss her cheek.

Emma’s body shifted, grumbling slightly as her eyes blinked open. “Well hi, baby,” she greeted, her voice adorably thick with sleep. Her eyes followed Hope’s back at him and she smiled at the rose in his hand. “What’s this?” she asked, sitting up against the pillows as she pulled Hope into her lap with a smile. 

“It’s YOU day, mama,” shouted Hope, bouncing lightly against Emma’s legs. 

Killian took his cue to shift forward as he held out the rose to his love--his flower of choice ever since their first date. He squeezed himself beside her on the edge of the bed, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “Happy Mother’s day, sweetheart.” He watched Emma’s face brighten, her tired eyes beginning to brim.

“I completely forgot,” she said, taking the rose and giving it a sniff. He beamed as he traded the rose for the tray of waffles, chuckling with Emma’s face lit up. “Wow, that smells good. You did this yourself?” 

He wrapped his left arm around her, brushing a strand of his daughter’s hair off her shoulder when it came in front. “I may have had some help.” 

Hope turned to them with a proud smile. “Do you like it?” 

Emma snuggled her daughter, kissing the top of her head. “I love it.” 

“Hey, where’s my kiss?”

He heard her chuckle before she let go of Hope to face him, her eyes gazing into his for a brief moment before she cupped his cheek and whispered, “Thank you.” 

He closed the distance and pressed a soft kiss to her lips, lingering in hopes to show how truly thankful he was for such a moment as she seemed to do the same.

“Thes are weally good,” came a mumbled noise and they broke apart to laugh at the site of their daughter, cheeks full like a chipmunk’s. They looked back at each other, a silent I love you passing between them, each thinking the same thought.

_Love was worth it._


	8. Better Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a drabble, future setting. Emma tucks their daughter in at night, singing her a special lullaby. 
> 
> Song Credit: Better Place - Rachel Platten

“Mama?” 

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Will you sing to me?”

Emma cupped her daughter’s cheek, taking a moment to caress the soft skin with her fingers. “Only for you, lovebug.” 

 _I’ll tell the world, I’ll sing a song_  
It’s a better place since you came along  
Since you came along  


 _And I hold my favorite thing_  
I hold the happiness you bring  
But it feels like I’ve opened my eyes again  
And the colors are golden and bright again  
And the sun paints the skies and the wind sings our song  
It’s a better place since you came along  
It’s a better place since you came along  


“Why do you always sing that song?”

“It’s a special song between your daddy and I,” Emma told her. Seeing her daughter’s sweet smile at the mention of Killian had Emma getting up from her crouched position and sitting next to her tiny form. She lightly poked Leia’s stomach, earning a giggle. “Before you came along, I would have trouble sleeping and he would sing it to me.”

“He sings to you, too?” Leia asked incredulously, just as all children did when they learned something new. 

Emma chuckled and played with one of her curls. “Shh,” she told Leia seriously, a quirk in her lips as she touched her forefinger to them. “That’s a secret. We’re the only ones he’ll sing to.” 

“Why?” Leia asked. It was one of her favorite questions nowadays.

“Because,” a deep, accented voice interrupted as it entered the room. A couple strides and Killian knelt down beside the bed, bumping Emma’s leg affectionately as he smiled at his little girl. “You and your mum are very special, my darling, and I would do anything to bring a smile to those lips.” He booped Leia’s nose, making it scrunch in its adorable way. 

Before they knew it Leia yawned, her eyes quickly falling shut as they kissed her goodnight. 

After Emma retucked the corners of the blanket around Leia’s shoulders, making sure her favorite little duck sat snugly under her arm, Killian led her out of their daughter’s room, catching the light switch while Emma quietly closed the door. 

“So how long were you standing there?” Emma asked as they walked hand in hand to their bedroom down the hall. 

Killian smiled sheepishly, pausing his steps as his hook came up to scratch behind his ear. “I like hearing you sing,” he admitted softly, his tone warm and sincere. He looked at her with that same gaze of wonderment and love that still sent warmth to Emma’s cheeks and a flutter to her heart. Before she knew it, though, her pirate’s eyes sparked with new interest and she squealed as he rushed forward and lifted her into his arms. “Now, love,” he said, kissing a low spot on her neck. “What say you to me making you blush for a different reason?”

She laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck as he stepped through the doorway to their room, his foot kicking it shut behind him. “Who am I to argue with a Captain?”


	9. "You're going out dressed like that?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt: “You’re going out dressed like that?”   
> Emma reflects on her past as she gets ready for her birthday dinner.

Emma Swan didn’t remember the last time she had actually celebrated her birthday–or more accurately, wanted to. It was a day like any another, a date that came and went.

That was until three years ago when a 10-year old boy showed up on her doorstep and changed her entire life. Even then - she was too busy having to face her past that had caught up with her to celebrate the day past the single cupcake she bought for herself. Followed by what became her new normal–battling villains…defeating darkness…venturing down to the Underworld to save her pirate boyfriend…

Her world was one you had to see to believe, that was for sure.

She shook her head as she looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes wandered as she slipped on her second earring, tilting her head as she did so. She looked at the second sink beside her and the products that were all neat and in a row behind it; three jars of hair wax–“A man as handsome as me mustn’t run out. Do you know what would happen, Swan? Chaos. Just Chaos.”–, an eyeliner pencil that, to her, was as signature as his hook itself…but what completed it all, the final touch, was the toothbrush sitting its holder next to hers.

Back when she was a child, the wish to have a family who loved her seemed as simple as the toothbrush in front of her. It was a ridiculous thing to be smiling about, but here she was. After all, she was about to meet her family at Granny’s for her birthday dinner, a man deemed  _worthy by Zeus_  to be alongside her. 

Crazy.

As if on cue, his frame appeared in the doorway behind her. “You almost ready, love?” 

She smiled at him in the mirror. “Yep, just need to brush my teeth.” 

He walked in further, his waistcoat yet to be buttoned and in her favorite paisley shirt of his that brought out his eyes perfectly, and sauntered up behind her, wrapping her in his arms. He pressed his lips to the bare skin of her shoulder and hummed contently.  “Hmm, you know, love,” he began, brushing his nose along the curve of her shoulder and stopping just below her ear. “We’re about to have dinner with your parents,” he paused again, teasing his lips just above her skin in the way that drove her crazy. “And you’re going out dressed like this?” 

She kept her face even; no way would she take the bate this early in the evening and face her parents when they arrived late. 

She glanced down at her outfit (a simple white sundress patterned with pink roses, accessorized by knee-high tan boots). Her softer side came out more and more, so on such occasions she dropped the armor of her leather to enjoy the quiet moments with Killian and her family. 

“This is completely innocent, Killian,” she argued, smiling. 

“Hmm,” he hummed, resting his chin on her shoulder and hugging her tighter from behind. “Not for me. My thoughts shall remain on what I have planned for later,” he whispered, pressing another gentle kiss where her neck met her shoulder.

She didn’t think she would ever get over the feeling of being wanted, the way Killian made her feel almost every minute of the day. She felt her cheeks warm, heat moving down her body at the thought. “Do I get a hint?” she flirted, deliberately bumping her hips into his.

He chuckled darkly. “Nope,” he replied, grinning mischievously at her reflection. She turned to lean her forehead against his temple, a beat of silence passing between them. He placed a soft kiss on her cheek. “You look beautiful, Emma.” 

She closed her eyes and smiled before turning around his arms, wrapping hers around his neck. “Thank you,” she replied, taking in his damp hair, a few strands slightly falling into his face at the top, those blue eyes staring into hers. “You’re not so bad yourself, Captain.”

“At this stage, Swan, are you really surpr–” 

She cut him off with a kiss, cupping his cheek as she grinned at him. “I’ll meet you downstairs?”

He stepped back, bringing her hand to his lips to press a kiss to the top. “As you wish.”

After finishing up she walked into their bedroom, grabbing her new black leather jacket Killian had given her from the bed. She shrugged it on and couldn’t help the skip in her step as she went down to celebrate what she was sure would be one of the best birthdays so far.


	10. Morning Mantra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma catches a moment between Killian and their daughter.

Emma bustled about in the kitchen, sliding portions of her just made scrambled eggs onto the three plates set at the table. 

Two large portions, one small one.

Behind her, the toaster popped. She turned and quickly set down the pan in the sink to be cleaned before grabbing the toast, piling the slices on a separate plate to be placed in center of the table. 

Emma Swan was not a morning person. Her theory that you were either one or the other still remained, but as she rushed around–now reaching for her still-full mug of coffee, she found she was the most content she had ever been at six in the morning. 

She was exhausted, but happy. 

She glanced at the clock and when it turned to 6:10 she took a moment to realize the other members of her family had yet to appear downstairs. 

“Killian?” she called out to no answer. 

Coffee in hand, she made her way upstairs. Bypassing the master, thinking there was no way Killian had fallen back asleep–his many years at sea still ingrained in his biological clock–she continued onto the room at the end of the hall. She pushed the door open and found it to be empty, though it didn’t stop her from taking a moment to smile at the crib against the wall across from her. A crib they soon would have to replace, their little one growing so fast they almost couldn’t keep up.

“Killian?” she called out again, hoping their daughter was with her pirate. 

She often couldn’t help the moments of panic that hit her, whether they were normal mother fears or ones she felt she would always have due to the world they lived in. It was a twist in her gut unlike any other.

“In here, love!” she heard him call from their bedroom, followed by a high-pitched giggle that had become her favorite sound in the world.

Sighing in relief, she walked past the bed in the center of the room, its rustled sheets having no intention to be made, and walked toward the sounds coming from their bathroom.

Emma walked quietly toward the door that was half ajar. Killian’s back was to her, as the voices inside had lowered. Through the mirror she could see three-year-old Leia standing on the counter, her back against her father’s chest as he held her steady. Pausing, she leaned her ear toward the quiet conversation.

“Repeat after me, darling,” she heard him say, followed by a giggle from Leia as he tickled her stomach.

“Papa!” 

“Shhh,” he smiled. “Do you remember what I told you yesterday?” he asked her.

“Nope!” she exclaimed proudly.

Killian chuckled and looked at Leia through the mirror, his eyes full of love and a visible will to protect the precious treasure in his arms. “Say ‘I am strong’,” he instructed. 

“I stwrong,” repeated Leia.

“Very good. Now, ‘I’m smart.’”

“Smart!”

Emma nearly cursed herself as she felt a tear slide down her cheek. Ever since she had Leia she cried at everything and watching Killian being the doting, caring father she knew he would be was no exception.

Between the two of them, their daughter would never feel alone or unloved, and that gave Emma more hope than anything else ever had. 

Killian squeezed her tiny body gently in a hug, letting loose another giggle. “And finally, say ‘I am beautiful’,” he said softly, pressing a loud kiss to his daughter’s cheek.

“I beautful,” said Leia.

“Very good, my cygnet. You shall repeat this every morning with papa, so you grow into the most wonderful, strong woman I know you’ll be. Just like–”

“Mama!” yelled Leia. Her little feet were stomping the counter in excitement and Killian quickly grabbed her and set her on the floor. She wasted no time in running toward Emma, who had pushed the door open enough for Leia to see her and crouched down, her arms open to catch her small form. 

“So this is where you’ve been hiding,” Emma teased, laughing at Leia’s enthusiastic nod. She picked her up, sliding her to rest on her hip as Killian walked over to them. “You guys are missing breakfast, you know,” she said, playfully bringing Leia’s palm to her lips and giving it a kiss. She turned toward Killian, now beside her, and wrapped her free arm around him, pressing herself close to his chest.. 

She glanced up at him, her eyes expressing what she couldn’t find words for; her pride in him for the father he was becoming and the moment he just shared with Leia. His eyes immediately softened, a bashful smiling crossing his lips, telling Emma that he understood exactly what she was trying to say. 

He hugged her to his side, kissing her temple as he smiled at Leia. Bending forward, he placed a soft kiss on her forehead. “And yes, darling, just like your mother.”


	11. New Sheriff in Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a day on patrol, Killian comes home to their 5-year-old daughter trying on a certain item of Emma's.

As he walked up the steps to their house, Killian pondered whether he would ever not feel a small jolt to his heart each time he stepped through the door.

No matter how exhausting a day it had been at the station—whether fighting some monster from another realm or dealing with the daily mischief of a dwarf—a breath of relief escaped him as the door closed, shutting out Storybrooke and the comfort of home washing over him.

The past few years had been relatively quiet in comparison to what their life used to be, but Killian liked to think they had found their own way, their own routine uniquely theirs that kept them grounded enough to create the future they had fought so hard for.

That is not to say they didn’t still have chaos in their life. The difference was, it was their chaos.

And her name was Clara.

She had Emma’s blonde locks, but his blues eyes, her stubbornness and his snark. It didn’t quite matter what she looked like he would still think her the most beautiful treasure in all the realms.

“Emma?” He called out into the quiet house, his gaze quickly searching the first floor for any sight of her. His lips quirked up at the video box on in the living room. No matter how many times he told Emma to turn it off when she wasn’t in the room, he more often than not returned home to the soft commentary of the Food Network, Emma’s secret obsession.

(She wasn’t to know he was quickly getting hooked on it, too).

Truthfully, on days he worked later than his Swan, he enjoyed walking in to the voices on the television (some of this realm’s vocabulary still foreign to him). Sometimes the volume was loud enough so Emma could hear it from the kitchen as she cleaned or made dinner, little Clara occupying herself with her toys scattered across the living room. It was an image that represented what Killian never thought he’d have: a home, a family, a happy beginning.

After hearing a faint reply from upstairs, Killian took the steps two at a time, his body anxious to see his loves.

Noting the lack of light in their daughter’s room that sat just across from the stairs, he went straight to the master at the end of the hall. The door was ajar and he slipped through, assuming Emma was in the washroom when he discovered the room empty.

Or so he thought.

A soft thump coming from the right side of the bed caught his attention and his eyebrow rose as he noticed a little blonde head. He tiptoed over to the opposite side and hunched down to rest on his knees as he stared across the comforter.

There was rustling before he saw the top of her head appear just above the edge of the bed, her forehead scrunched in concentration. She had yet to notice him and he took the opportunity to gaze at his little lass. As she stood up to her full height he saw a flash of red and his lips parted, but really it was when her small hands came up to move her golden curls out from under the collar in the way Emma always did that caused him to break into a smile.

“Clara,” he sang in a low whisper, making his presence known.

Two eyes peeked over the edge of the bed that was just taller than her, her blue orbs wide like she was just caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

He placed his left elbow on the bed, resting his chin on his hook as he stared at her teasingly. She giggled before suddenly disappearing from view. Keeping himself low, he walked around the end of the bed and chuckled when he found her peeking around the corner.

He bent down on one knee in front of her. “What’re you up to, little love?” he asked, tilting his head.

She stood up, revealing the red jacket he had seen many, many times before. The sleeves fell way past her tiny hands and the bottom sat just above her knees, but all Killian saw was a young Emma and the sight trapped his breath in his throat.

Clara lifted her chin as she stated proudly, “I’m mummy!”

He broke out into a smile, tears pricking his eyes as he laughed. “Yes, my love,” he said, raising his hand to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. “More than you know,” he added softly.

Every single day he saw signs of his wife in Clara. If one looked past her apple-round cheeks and dimples, one would see his little lass had just as much fire as her mum. Though they may be small at only five years of age, she never shied away from a challenge, meeting every single one with determination and resilience. He had nearly bursted into tears when she had walked into his arms for the first time at only nine months, his pride in her so strong he hadn’t been able to do anything but hold onto her for a moment.

In the same way he still couldn’t believe Emma had chosen him, he didn’t think he would ever fathom how he was blessed with such a soul to call his.

“You just need one last touch, love.” Clara watched curiously as he removed the deputy badge from his chest and carefully pinned it to Clara’s shirt. “There,” he said, tugging the edges of the jacket to straighten it, tilting his head to make it look like he was appraising her.

“Looks like a new Sheriff is in town,” came a familiar voice behind him.

Clara giggled, though obviously unfamiliar with the reference. He stood up, guiding her to stand in front of him as he rested his hand on her shoulder. “I think someone’s trying to take your job, Swan.”

“Daddy says I look just like you,” Clara chimed in happily.

Killian watched as Emma bent down in front of Clara, understanding the emotion swimming behind her eyes as she looked at their daughter. Emma softly ran her knuckle along Clara’s cheek. “He’s right,” she said. “And I’m going to tell you something.” Emma rolled up the sleeves of the jacket to free Clara’s hands as she spoke. “This jacket is special. It protected me for a very long time; it kept me strong, kept me fighting when I was scared and didn’t want to.” When she paused, Killian placed his hand on top of hers that rested on Clara’s shoulder. Emma smiled up at him just as Clara interrupted.

“Does it have magic?” She exclaimed. “Like me?”

Emma grinned, obviously liking the idea of that as she nodded. “Yes, baby, it does,” she told her as she lifted her hand with her palm facing Clara.

Clara was two when she displayed her first act of magic. As an infant, the signs were subtler like the minor light flickers whenever she was particularly cranky. They had thought nothing of it until the day she’d summoned her favorite stuffed toy (a tiny duckling she’d gotten when she was born) all the way from her room to her tiny hands downstairs.

It had both excited them and terrified them, but they agreed to raise her so she embraced her powers. “ _I want her to love who she is. If we want to give her strength, we have to give her that_ ,” Emma had said, to which Killian had wholeheartedly agreed. It was then decided Emma would show her healthy ways to tap into her magic, small steps that taught her how to use it while also giving the energy a way to vent, with plans to work with Regina when she grew older.

He broke out of his thoughts to watch what had become a ritual of sorts, a bond between mother and daughter that never ceased to make his heart swell.

Clara met her mother’s hand with hers and just as their skin touched he felt power humming between the two of them as a small white light appeared between their palms. It grew bright for a few seconds before they let it fade as they removed their hands.

“Love you, mummy,” Clara whispered, throwing her arms around Emma’s middle.

“I love you, too, my sweet girl,” Emma replied, closing her eyes as she kissed Clara’s hair. After pulling back, Emma helped Clara out of the jacket and sent her off to get ready for dinner.

Killian had removed his vest and walked over to the closet when he felt a presence behind him. Wordlessly, he brought an arm around Emma’s shoulders as she moved into his side.

“Alright, love?” he asked, rubbing his hand along her back.

She smiled up at him. “Yeah,” she answered, her eyes trained on the jacket in her hands. He tilted his head, knowing she had more to say. “I wish I could protect her forever,” she sighed a moment later.

He nodded. “I know, love. Me too.” He shifted to take the jacket from her, slipping it onto a hanger next to her others before gripping her hand in his own. “All we can do is be there for her. She has a whole band of heroes on her side.” 

Emma nodded in agreement, lacing her fingers between his. “She does.”

He brought their joined hands up to brush her cheek with his knuckles as he gazed at his wife— _his beautiful wife_ , he mused. “She’ll never know a life without love,” he stated softly, as if he himself just realized that fact. Emma’s eyes began to shine at his words and he hugged her to his chest. The fact they could give a child— _their_ child—what they grew up without brought the moment into focus, their respective lifetimes of pain and loss and fighting to survive reaching a point of closure for both of them. “And I know she’ll be just as strong as her mother,” he added, kissing the top of her head.

He could feel Emma roll her eyes but her head tucked into him shyly. “She’s got plenty of you in her, too,” she said, reaching into her back pocket to pull out his badge as she gazed up at him with amusement in her eyes. “Mr. Deputy Jones.”

He raised an eyebrow, giving her a playful smirk. “I’ll let you in on a secret,” he whispered against her temple.

“Hmm?” she teased back, giggling when he nuzzled his nose against her skin.

“I only secured the job because I’m sleeping with the Sheriff.”

Emma let out a laugh and he smiled at the sound. She moved her hands from around his waist, one arm slinking around his neck, her other sliding up his chest to lay her hand over his heart. “Lucky woman,” she smiled.

She looked up at him, her hazel-green eyes bright with happiness and her love for him, and all he could do was shake his head. He leaned down to press a soft kiss to her lips.  “Quite the opposite, Swan,” he mumbled against them. “Quite the opposite.”


End file.
